


And There We Go

by ItsYourLocalBi



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Road Trips, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsYourLocalBi/pseuds/ItsYourLocalBi
Summary: Evan just wants out.He's not the only one.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	1. The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, to be honest, I have no plan for this story. It's an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while. That being said, here we go.

Evan Hansen was having... a day.

Not a bad day.

But most certainly not a good day either.

It was a dissociation day.

He couldn't pay attention during class. The teacher was just... talking. And Evan couldn't focus. His arm was pulsing painfully. He glanced down at it. The blank cast stared dully back up at him. He looked back up at the whiteboard.

He couldn't even hear what the teacher was saying.

His arm had been fine that morning. Granted, Evan supposed getting shoved to the ground would hurt anyone, let alone someone with a broken arm, so he didn't know why he was surprised that he was in so much pain. He just... was.

The bell rang, and he flinched. As the class started packing up as quickly as they could, Evan took his time putting his stuff back in his backpack. He couldn't really focus, so it took him a couple of tries to zip it up. At least the day was over now. Now he could go home and just- just do nothing. Just like he'd been doing all summer. Maybe he'd take a depression nap to spice things up.

"I set up an appointment with Dr. Sherman for this afternoon," his mom's voice sounded in his head suddenly, reminding him he still had to pretend to function for a few more hours, at least.

He sighed as he exited the classroom. He was definitely sure by now that he had entered a dissociative state, if the fact that it didn't feel like everyone was judging him for some reason or another was any clue. Well, it still felt like that, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything about it right now.

Evan really wished that he could just disappear sometimes.

He wasn't going to be able to get his letter done. He had lost all of his motivation the second he'd collided with the cold school tiles that morning. It had taken an extreme amount of effort to just pick himself up off the ground. His 'optimistic outlook' was officially not working right now.

He sighed again. He supposed he could just give Dr. Sherman one of his pre-written letters that he'd made when he he'd been in an overanalytical state and had freaked out because what if he can't write a letter when he needs to, what'll he do, he can't just not have a letter to give. So he'd made himself a bunch of vaguely outlined letters for emergencies.

Evan supposed that this wasn't really an emergency, but it wasn't worth the talk that Dr. Sherman would give him if he didn't have a letter to give.

With a hunch of his back, he made his way to the computer lab.

He started debating which letter to choose. All of them were so... fake. There was one that seemed really positive, but Evan wasn't in the right mood to be able to pull off having been that optimistic all day. He opened the door to the lab, mindlessly wandering to the back of the room to sit at the computer closest to the wall. He signed in, opening up his word doc titled 'Emergency Letters,' making him cringe slightly. He was such a liar. He was such a huge liar, that he was even lying to himself about what he used his own resources for. He was such a liar that he was still going to use one of these letters just because he didn't feel like writing one.

'Emergency.' Yeah right.

He sighed, and ended up just selecting the first one he saw without bothering to check what he'd written. He hit print, and went back to idly staring at the screen, not absorbing a single thing.

His mind wandered. He felt like maybe he was sitting on something very high up, above himself. Like if he looked down, he would see his own sweaty, hunched form, staring at the computer screen. He wondered if he'd be able to walk away from himself. Just leave his body here and go somewhere. Do something. Travel to a place where nobody knew who he was, where he could just slip into a life where he didn't really exist to anybody, where he didn't know anybody, so that way, the next time his brain let him engage in fun activities, like climbing forty feet into a tree with no plan to get down safely, he wouldn't have to worry about the fact that nobody would miss him because he wouldn't miss them either.

He should take his meds. He was starting to not like this unfeeling state. When he was like this, no regard for actual feeling, it always hit him worse when he came back down to earth. The more he thought about things unfeelingly, the worse the panic attack afterwards. And Evan still had to go see Dr. Sherman. He couldn't have another panic attack in front of Dr. Sherman, because then he would say something he didn't want to let be known, and then his mom would know the real reason why his arm was broken. And Evan couldn't deal with the look that would put on her face.

So, yes, Evan needed to take his meds. He had a bottle of Xanax in his backpack. He reached for his backpack, and started digging through it furiously.

When his hand finally closed around the little bottle, he nearly cried from relief. And then he nearly cried again, when he realized he didn't have any water. He hated taking his pill dry, but he didn't really have a choice.

His throat worked uncomfortably around the pill, but he managed to swallow it without too much pain.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair, the motion setting the seat spinning slightly. When he opened them again, he was suddenly confronted with the sight of a very out of place looking Connor Murphy.

Evan startled at the boy's jarring presence. Evan hadn't even heard him approach. Although, that was likely due to the fact that Evan was teetering between having a panic attack and disassociating. Connor appeared startled to be seen. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, then closed it.

Evan just stared at him.

Connor was holding a piece of paper in his hands, repeatedly looking down at it, then back up at Evan, as if trying to connect the two.

Evan could feel his anxiety start to creep up the back of his neck, like ice, beginning to pull him out of his unfeeling state, but it was dull, the effects of the Xanax soothing him.

Finally, Connor spoke.

"I'll do it."

Evan stared at him. It was an enormous effort to get his mouth to work. Finally, after some time, he managed a choked, "What?"

Connor looked like he regretted opening with that statement. Evan could relate. Evan regretted opening with a lot of his own statements. Most of the time, Evan regretted opening his mouth at all.

"Sorry," Connor said, all sharp angles from that morning seeming to have softened. No. Not softened. Just, lessened. He almost looked nervous. "You're Evan, right?" He asked, pointing at the letter. "Dear Evan Hansen?"

Evan's eyes widened as he realized that it was his letter that Connor was holding. The ice that had been creeping up his neck was expanding out throughout his body rapidly, freezing him in place. It was all he could do to nod. He suddenly regretted not checking to see which letter he'd chosen. The effects of the Xanax were not working properly. He was not calm.

Connor was reading the letter again, a weird something twisting his face into an expression that resembled a scowl, but not quite right. A different energy behind it.

"'I wish I lived in a world where strangers come along and take you on an adventure,'" Connor read aloud. "'I wish someone would do that for me.'" He looked back up at Evan. "I'll do it."

Evan blinked.

Connor wanted to- what?

Evan's absolute shock must have frozen him for a bit too long, because the openness on Connor's face began closing off. His determined scowl pulled into an angry line.

"Never mind. Never mind," he said, paper crumpling in his grip. "I just- here," he shoved the letter towards Evan, not even bothering to check if Evan took it.

It took Evan until Connor was already halfway towards the door to unfreeze.

"What do you mean?"

Connor froze. He didn't look back at him. Evan hadn't realized he had gotten to his feet. He was still coming out of his unfeeling state. Everything was going too fast, and Evan just needed everything to slow down. Or at least, to be able to function at a faster pace.

"What do you mean?" He repeated, a slight something crawling into his voice, making him sound like a dangerous mixture of desperate and hopeful. Because there was no way that Connor Murphy was offering him what he thought he was offering him.

Connor turned around slowly. He didn't look at Evan when he spoke.

"You want to get out of here, right?" He asked, but Connor didn't phrase it like a question. "You want out, but you can't do it on your own, can you?"

Evan unconsciously grabbed his cast. He couldn't do it on his own.

"You want someone to go with you."

He couldn't do it on his own. He always fucked it up on his own. He couldn't even fall right.

"I'll do it."

He couldn't escape on his own. He needed someone just as desperate and hopeful as he was to help him. He had been positive that things like that only happened in the insanely specific daydreams concocted in the lonely cracks between actual events of his life.

But here Connor was, practically a stranger, offering to get him out of here, of his own free will.

Evan would have to have been even more pathetic than he was to turn down that offer. And Evan might have been pathetic, and anxious, and most decidedly Mentally Ill, but he was of clear enough mind to realize that this wasn't an offer he would get again. And judging from the way Connor was staring at him, he could guess that if he turned him down now, he wouldn't be around to offer again.

"We need a plan."

And for the first time ever, Evan saw Connor Murphy's face break into a genuine smile.


	2. It Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan's head is everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you all for being so supportive. Here's chapter two!

Chapter 2

Evan hadn't known what to expect when he'd agreed to Connor's impromptu offer, but immediately being led to Connor's car to go get coffee at the mall had not been on the list.

He'd hesitated as they'd approached the car. He didn't like cars. He didn't like driving. He didn't like other people driving him. The only people who he'd been in a car with in the past five years were either Jared or Heidi. He didn't trust people with cars.

It was funny. You'd assume that, you know, being suicidal, would give him this, like, I don't care if I die right now, type of attitude. But instead, Evan's brain had this like, insistent need to be panicky about every little detail of his death. And a car crash not only didn't guarantee results, it was expensive for the people who had to deal with the car. So his brain had decided that dying in a a crash was absolutely unacceptable, thus leading to Evan's fear of cars, as well as the people driving them.

Of course, Evan could not voice this to Connor.

And, if Connor was serious about getting him out of this place, of this city, Evan supposed he'd have to get used to him driving him sooner or later.

Mere seconds after he'd gotten in the car, his phone lit up. His mom was calling.

"Hey, sweetie, I am so sorry, but I can't pick you up today. Nancy called in sick, so I have to take her shift. You know how it is."

"Oh."

"But! I called Mrs. Kleinman, and she said Jared would be happy to give you a ride home."

Evan seriously doubted that Jared would have been happy about that, but nonetheless he forced some optimism into his voice. "It's okay, Mom." It wasn't really okay. "Jared told me already." Jared had not told him already. "We're on our way home right now." No, he was on his way to the mall with Connor Murphy.

Connor shot him a look as he paused too suddenly at a red light.

"Oh, good. I probably won't be able to see you tonight. Do you think Jared could drive you to Dr. Sherman's at five?"

"No, it's okay, Mom. I can walk."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Evan said, summoning a weak chuckle. "I love you."

"I love you too, Evan."

She hung up first.

"Who's Dr. Sherman?" Connor spoke for the first time since announcing their destination.

"Therapist," Evan muttered. He still wasn't completely out of his dissociative state yet. He hardly flinched when Connor took the turn too sharply. He dimly registered the fact that Connor was taking them towards the mall. He'd been once, with Jared, but the food had cost more than he'd expected so he'd just gotten the cheapest thing he could find, and resolved not to use the money Heidi had left for takeout that night.

"Wait. You go to therapy?"

Evan was so caught off guard by Connor's sudden, honest shock that he took a second to respond.

"Well, I mean, obvious- obviously? I don't write letters to myself for fun."

"Then why the fuck would you leave?" Connor exclaimed, something like disbelief coloring his voice. "You've got a therapist to help you through that shit."

"I just- you- you said you wanted-"

"If you're just going along with this because you're scared of me or something-"

"No, no, no, no, no, that's not- no, I swear it isn't-"

"Why else would you go along with whatever the hell this is?"

"I-"

"You think I'm going to freak out and- and fucking shove you again? Huh? Is that it? You're too scared to tell me that I'm crazy?"

"You- you said you'd help-"

"You're getting help already! What the hell do you need me for!?"

"Because you care!" Evan shouted. Connor's mouth clammed shut as he stared at the road ahead. He glanced at Evan as if telling him to explain. Evan took a second, trying to clear his brain of the bits of cotton that were still making it hard to focus. "Well- I mean- I mean you have to at least care a little bit. Otherwise you wouldn't have offered? Right?"

Connor didn't respond, but his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel slackened a little bit. Evan took this as permission to continue.

"And, it's like- I mean- it's not that I think Dr. Sherman doesn't care, but that's, you know- it's not the same thing. Yeah I'm getting help but, I mean you read the letter. Even when I'm trying to be positive, it's still- It's not exactly working very well. And-" He paused. "I know it's selfish, but you're kind of the first person to ever just- tell me that I can leave. Everyone else would just be all 'you need to appreciate the place you're in, or you'll never be happy,' but it's- I- It's not like I don't appreciate what I have, but none of it's really- I don't-"

"It's not helping you to stay," Connor interrupted. Evan looked up from where his gaze had turned to his hands when he wasn't paying attention. Connor wasn't looking at him, but his posture had become more relaxed, less wound up, like a gear had been loosened.

"Yeah," Evan agreed, looking back down at his hands, fingernails picking at his cast.

The silence after that was strained, but it wasn't hostile, which was more than Evan would have hoped for. Just as they were pulling into the parking lot for the mall, Evan's phone lit up again. Jared.

Connor raised a brow. "You're more popular than I expected."

"What? Oh- no. I have like- three contacts. This is just- this is Jared. He's probably- his mother probably called him to give me a ride."

Connor's brow only raised higher. "Then shouldn't you answer it?"

"Oh. Right," Evan shook his head and swiped to answer.

"Where the hell are you?" Jared said in greeting. "I've been waiting for you for like, ten minutes."

"Um-" A car alarm sounded in the distance and Evan could have sworn. Screw the universe's timing. He looked to Connor, trying to convey the fact that he had a problem. Connor motioned for him to put Jared on speaker. Evan shook his head furiously. If Jared heard Connor, then who knew what he'd say.

"Is that a car alarm?" Jared asked.

"Um, no?"

Connor dropped his head in his hands.

"You're a shit liar, Evan." Jared said. "Where the hell are you?'

"I... decided to walk home?"

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've been getting shit done, but instead, I've been waiting for you for ten minutes!"

"I'm sorry, I- I didn't want to bother you."

"Too late."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I know you've got therapy today. Do you need a ride? Or are you walking there, too?" There was humor in Jared's voice, but as always, it didn't land well. Evan cringed slightly as he forced a laugh.

"No, yeah, it's- I'll be fine. No need to worry."

"You realize the hypocrisy of you telling someone not to worry, right?" Jared snickered. Evan forced another, weaker, laugh. "Anyways, you sure you're good, dude?"

"Yeah, Jared, I'm fine."

"Alright," Jared's tone was light, but hints of genuine concern peaked through. "Have a good night dude."

"You too."

He hung up.

"You know, for a guy who seems to make lying a habit, you're not very good at it," Connor said lightly.

"I don't- it's not-"

Connor gave him a look that clearly meant he should stop trying to excuse himself. He hunched his shoulders.

It was quiet for a minute until Connor opened his door and got out of the car. Evan stared after him blankly, the cotton in his head not quite gone. He nearly jumped when his door opened. He looked up at Connor who was glaring at him impatiently.

"Are you coming with me, or did you plan on suffocating in the car instead?"

Evan hurried to unbuckle his seatbelt.

______________________________________

Connor's nail polish was chipped.

Evan hadn't ever thought he would be able to see Connor's hands up close. But here he was, watching him handle the money to pay for their food. Both of their orders.

Connor had insisted on paying for his, which shouldn't have been such a big deal, but it was a big deal to Evan's brain. Connor was being considerate. In his own way. And his nail polish was chipped. And he wore rings. One on his left middle finger, one on his right pointer finger, and one on his right ring finger.

Evan had read somewhere that wearing a ring on your right ring finger rather than your left meant you were married to someone of the same sex. He didn't know if that was a fact or not, but still. He wondered. He doubted that Connor was married, but who was he to say for sure? He didn't even really know him. 

That thought wouldn't leave his head, even as they sat down at a table in the corner.

What if Connor was married? That had to be illegal, right? Although, his mom had told him at some point that underage people can still get married with permission from their parents. So, what if Connor was in some underaged marriage thing, and Evan was interfering with that? What if- what if Connor was trying to run away from a forced marriage? Evan didn't know what his parents were like. For all he knew, that was exactly what was happening. It wasn't likely, but it was possible. What if his parents somehow find that Evan is with Connor after they leave? What if they blamed him for their son leaving?

He was still staring at Connor's hands as Connor took a sip of his coffee, oblivious to the micro-panic attack that was starting in Evan's head.

"Okay, so, as you said, we need to make a plan," Connor began, but Evan didn't respond. Connor's thumb nail was painted a dark green. "Evan?"

"Are you married?"

Evan regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The look Connor was giving him would have been comical if it were on any other person's face. But it wasn't. It was on Connor Murphy's, the guy who threw a printer at a teacher in second grade. He was known for lashing out.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I- I just, you-"

"The fuck kind of question is that? Of course I'm not married," Connor spat the word like Evan had lost his mind. "What the hell- I'm not even- why the hell would you ask that?"

"Hands. Ring on your- on your ring finger," Evan managed to stammer out. Connor stared at him for a long second, before looking down at his hands.

"This is my right hand, Hansen," Connor said slowly, as if trying to be patient.

"I know, I know. It's just that I read somewhere that if you wear your ring on your right ring finger, then it means you're married to someone of the same sex, and I- I don't know how much truth is in that statement, but it just got me thinking, and I don't know, you could be married for all I know, or engaged to be married, and you're trying to get out of some forced marriage situation, I don't- I just-"

He'd run out of words. He just sat there, trying to stammer out some sort of explanation that would get Connor to stop staring at him like that.

"So- yeah," he finished after a good five minutes, shame and embarrassment high on his cheeks. He was sure he looked like an absolute idiot. He probably was an absolute idiot.

After what felt like forever, Connor finally spoke. "I didn't know that was a thing," he said conversationally. He put his hand up to his face. "As much as I like guys, I've never been married to one. So, you don't have to deal with whatever turmoil that's been causing you."

Evan blinked at him. "Turmoil?" He repeated dumbly. Connor gave him a look.

"Please tell me you know what that means."

"I do," Evan said defensively. "It's just not a word people use often. Or maybe they do. I don't know, I don't hang out with a lot of people."

"Same." Connor gave him a lopsided half smile before turning to his food, and poking at it.

Evan didn't really know how to carry the conversation from there. He wasn't good at talking. Especially when the last thing a person said could be thought of as the end of that conversation but it still feels like it's Evan's turn to say something. And the fact that he doesn't know what to say makes it worse. Like, it's his fault that the conversation is ended, and he doesn't want the conversation to be over, especially not right now, when it could very well lead to the most important thing to him right now, which is the fact that Connor wants to get him out of here.

But it turns out that Evan didn't need to worry about that, because the second Connor finished his first bite of the sandwich he'd ordered, he was talking. "Alright. So now that we've got the fact that I am most certainly not married out of the way..." Evan grinned weakly when Connor paused to give him a look full of amusement. "As you said, we need a plan."

And plan they did.

______________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought in the comments section below! As always, hate will be ignored, and constructive criticism is welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Tell me what you think. More? Yes? No? Give me ideas guys, I don't know what I'm doing.


End file.
